another saturday evening

I spend my dreamtime delirious, lost.


She asked me to hold a knife to her throat as we continued; sharp and cold, it reminded me of her. Part of me recoiled at this perversity, but I had found them together, Leslie and her, and I would not back down now.

She laughed as the blood began to flow, impressing the spectators with her enthusiasm. This too, would pass.

Raven was here, and his skeleton took me aside – once more, we are bleached white and broken, we are bound.

I did not have time for him, today. His bones ground together with every movement, a fine chalk dust marking his steps. His irritation was only second to my own.

Together, we pretended that we could ignore each other, and looked for a way home.

I found her in the dig. She was thought to be dead, and not without cause. The oils and dirt covered her so completely that she had been passed over countless times, mistaken for landscape.

I took her in my arms and began to wash her, softly, with lukewarm water that felt like fire to her skin. She saw me, in that moment, and we knew that we belonged to each other.

For every story I keep, a thousand leave me forever.

2 thoughts on “another saturday evening

  1. Your dreams and mine are too much the same. The more I long for sleep, the more I fear it.
    Your use of words to describe them is beautiful though.

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